Les Oréades 1902

William Bouguereau made this dreamy painting of nymphs with oils, probably in his studio in Paris. I just wanna dive into the world he's made, head first. Look at that tangle of bodies, tumbling and swirling as if made of smoke. It's a fleshy fever dream. There’s a lot of skin, and all the bodies melt into one another. Bouguereau's got such smooth brushwork, it’s like he's buffing the canvas. I wonder if he ever got bored of painting all that peachy skin? It's a whole vibe. The smoothness gives it this unreal, hyper-idealized look. I wonder if he ever yearned to just splodge some paint around? Still, I get it. It’s about making something perfect, or at least his version of it. There's something so vulnerable about trying to achieve perfection.